When in Doubt, Cut Taxes on the Rich



Trent Lott is a fighting man

A college cheerleader for Vietnam

A bespectacled, suited man of the klan

Obligingly lying, not our partisan


Dennis Hastert is jolly and fat

A jellied, big titted plutocrat

Smugly assured like an autodidact

With boorish biases always intact


Condoleeza Rice is stately, serene

Sumptuously dressed, a regnant queen

Polished and perfected she’ll haughtily demean

Anyone who questions our war machine


Dick Army is charging like General Maude

Resolute, indignant, thoroughly appalled

No policy ever strikes the right chord

The exalted, haute, imperial sword


Lindsey Graham has senses acute

That grimace at Clinton’s disrepute

But morals be damned, he’ll still salute

The carnage and mayhem we institute


Arlen Spector molds a Nation’s soft brain

Likens a bullet to a somersaulting plane

He quashes our questions with the righteous refrain

There was no conspiracy, just one man insane

Rumsfeld is ribald, rough and raw

His words synonymous with divine law

His voice seems to crackle and verily claw

Gray matter is shredded, seized by his paw


Ann Coulter, enraged, is all fire and ice

But the gorgeous blond beast does entice

As she pleads for morals, she reeks with vice

Prussia and America she seeks to splice


Dick Morris walks in treason like a rat

He occludes the light like a cataract

Ideals inconvenient are butchered and hacked

He’ll abandon his friends without any tact



Copyright, David Gottfried, 2003


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